


see me burn with a smile

by jjaebri



Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Break Up, Recreational Drug Use, Suicidal Thoughts, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, aka day6 is not a band in this, artist younghyun, editor jae, haha can you tell im sad and taking it out on my characters?, references to 50 proof by eaj
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:48:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25105711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jjaebri/pseuds/jjaebri
Summary: all the times he'd said that he 'wouldn't be able to survive without younghyun' hit him like a slap across the face.because here he is, still alive.or:jae and younghun attempt to heal from the fresh wound of a breakup while realizing that being just friends is so much harder than they thought it would be.
Relationships: Hong Jisoo | Joshua/Park Jaehyung | Jae, Kang Younghyun | Young K/Park Jaehyung | Jae
Comments: 6
Kudos: 18





	see me burn with a smile

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cryystal_m00n](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryystal_m00n/gifts).



> hi!! this is a tw for suicidal thoughts. its not graphic or very present, but please note that it is there and i don't want this to trigger/hurt anyone !! also any of the actions, thoughts, emotions and opinions presented in this story are purely fiction and do not reflect those of the people they are written based off of. 
> 
> dedicated to my best no homo bro lau posting [the tweet](https://twitter.com/cryystal_moon/status/1213150820600090625) that inspired me to write this and listening to me do nothing but whine about how sad it makes me xoxo love u 
> 
> title from: [pacman by eaj](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i0MrGb1hT2U). i listened to this as i was finishing the first chapter and it was perfect. stream pacman and support our boy.

it isn't that the first few weeks are hard. in fact, jae tells himself, they’re easier than the ones that follow. the first few weeks are just confusing. he has to wake up earlier because he no longer has someone to make coffee for him first thing in the morning. he has to use pillows to substitute the body he's so used to holding onto while sleeping. he comes home to darkness, the apartment no longer smelling like paint fumes that make his eyes water.

the first few weeks aren't bad because jae hasn't processed yet that this is permanent. his lover isn't coming back after a trip, he's not coming back at all. 

what jae had once considered his worst nightmare is now his reality. all the times he'd said that he 'wouldn't be able to survive without younghyun' hit him like a slap across the face. 

because here he is, still alive.

younghyun is doing a good job at ignoring it. his trip to tokyo has been a marvelous distraction, he’s barely had any time to spend sulking even if he wanted to. his new collection, named “a chemical imbalance”, was met with stellar feedback by art critics.

the collection is mainly paintings. his color palette had changed drastically from his previous work. younghyun, an artist who was known for his sharp edges, bold colors and details had suddenly switched to thick brush strokes with barely there figures in black and grey, hints of blood red peeking through.

lucky for him, everyone was too busy focusing on the “new ways younghyun pushed his creations” to really question _what_ had caused the shift. to his face, at least. 

the lights of the gallery warm his skin underneath his heavy jacket as he sips on yet another glass of wine. he stands, watches the people filter in, talk, laugh, examine the art with unconcealed curiosity, drink, leave. the bodies move all around him and he stays still, in the middle of it all.

at the end of each night, he stands in the same place, the large gallery void of anyone but himself, and he stares. stares at his own work. outlines of jae's shoulders, hands, lips, eyes stare back at him. the drawings are all hazy, the fine details fading from the amount of brush strokes and layers of paint that younghyun has forced on top. the pieces originally created as love letters were covered in black then white then black then white again and again until they were just shadowy silhouettes of what once was.

younghyun stands small in front of a canvas that goes easily over eight feet. the brush strokes are messy and furious, the image hardly visible without knowledge of the art that once lay beneath. what was once a painting of jae during a lazy morning in yellows and golds (“yellow because you taste like sunshine” “oh cause you’ve been making out with the sun so you’d know what that tastes like, huh?” “i was trying to be _romantic_ , you demon”) now stands as a mess of dry strokes of a pale grey, the outline of jae barely there anymore, even to younghyun’s eyes.

that night when he gets back to his room, he’s followed in by a sweet, bright eyed boy. younghyun presses him into the soft sheets, chest flush and neck bruised.

  
  
  


then the first few weeks pass and it starts to really settle in. being alone feels like a constant pressure against jae’s throat, and it’s really starting to hurt. 

its been a little over a month when his work starts to be effected. he doesn’t realize until he’s going through a manuscript and finds that he can’t turn the page because its become soggy with his own tears. jae, stunned, goes to wipe them away only to find that the stream doesn’t end. he cries and he cries, but he’s numb to it. 

sobs don’t wrack through his body, he doesn’t scream or yell. he just lets the tears flow down his face as he stares out the big glass window to the thunderstorm that plagues the night sky. 

he brushes it off as a single event. goes about his daily life as an editor critiquing the pages that authors have poured their souls onto. his boss is pleased with the sudden spike in the amount of work jae is putting in, he feels the pride swell his ego all the way to his throat.

then, one day, the chief editor comes knocking at his door. jae stands up from his chair startled at the sudden visit. 

“good afternoon ma’am. i wasn’t aware that you would be coming, is everything alrigh-”

“mr. park, i’ll get straight to the point. last week, you rejected a manuscript from one of our most well loved authors. because this was surprising, your decision was brought to me for approval. i took the liberty of reading through it and it was immediately evident that this is his best work,” she holds up her hand to silence jae when she sees him open his mouth to respond, “now, mr. park, you are an excellent employee and i trust that this was merely a mistake. just don't let it happen again.”

jae barely manages to open his mouth before she spins and walks back out.

he knows exactly which manuscript she’s talking about. his mind flashes back to the image of himself, numb, face wet with tears as the thunderstorm roars outside.

he had mindlessly come into his office the next day and put it in the rejected pile, not even bothering to read farther.

jae knew this breakup was taking an emotional toll on him, but he had assumed that nothing else in his life would be affected. that he’d be able to just go back to the way things were. 

but this is unacceptable. his work is his pride and joy, he loves it and he’s _good_ at it. as much as he doesn’t want to admit it, it’s one of the few things he can cling onto because younghyun couldn’t change it, it was entirely his. or so he had thought.

on his way home from work that evening, he makes a promise to himself. he refuses to give up any more of himself to his breakup. it was over, history. nothing could be changed now. instead, he’s going to focus on building himself back up without a lover as foundational support.

he’s his own person, and he can’t forget that. younghyun plagued his thoughts and dreams down to every cell in his body. but there was no point in tracing back over history, no point in thinking about a boy who isn't thinking about him.

when he walks past a gorgeous boy on the street, he doesn’t stop himself from thinking about how soft his hair must be. when he unlocks the door and walks into his empty apartment, he wills himself to process the emptiness not as loneliness, but as peace.

he would learn how to enjoy time with himself again, learn to be whole without someone else. 

  
  
  


too quickly, younghyun’s trip to tokyo ends. he’s forced to face the reality of the cold, empty apartment he's returning to. a driver picks him up at the airport. no one makes a sign, no one kisses him breathless the minute they see him. 

all the glass in his apartment lets the light of the city through and younghyun envies the life it holds. he feels no light, no life. 

he has half a mind to push himself through the glass and onto the busy streets below.

that night, younghyun replaces a lover with a bottle of wine. he drinks down the dark red liquid until he can’t taste it anymore. there’s a cartoon playing on the tv but his eyes are too blurry for him to really see what’s happening. so, he lets the moving colors occupy his mind as he continues to dissociate from his emotions. 

he doesn’t know how long he spends letting the colors burn into his eyes, could’ve been minutes, could’ve been hours.

if he closes his eyes for long enough, he can convince himself that the warmth from the alcohol in his system is actually the heat of another body. 

  
  


the next morning he wakes to the feeling of his skull splitting open and the overwhelming need to empty his entire stomach into a toilet. after about twenty minutes in his bathroom, he pulls himself together enough to look at himself in the mirror while he brushes his teeth.

upon closer inspection, he notices the little streaks of yellow paint in his hair and under his nails. he doesn’t remember painting, had made a point to not pick up a brush since he finished the pieces for the exhibition.

he lets his head drop back down. he doesn’t remember painting, but he knows exactly what, _who_ , he painted. he wets his hands to run fingers through his hair to get the paint out. then digs under them to get the evidence out as much as he can.

he notices how much buttercup yellow paint remains when he dries his hands, it feels like a mockery of his emotions. he steps outside his room anyways, he’ll have to face the music sooner or later.

it doesn’t take him long to find it. a part of him had hoped that his intoxicated self had somehow managed to keep everything in his painting room, but no, of course not. 

there it stands. right in the middle of the spacious living room, just a few steps out of his bedroom. propped on the easel is a large canvas, some parts of the paint still shiny from not having enough time to dry.

for all that younghyun can deny and burrow in everyday life, drunk younghyun does not hold back with expression. the painting isn’t complex, its his heart in its absolute bare, rawest form.

the canvas stands six feet tall. only a few shades of yellow and gold make up jae’s unmistakable grinning face. his eyes almost completely hidden by the smile splitting his face. his hair unruly, soft. it’s jae in the form that makes younghyun the weakest: soft, happy and warm.

  
the early afternoon rays of sun bathe the piece in light. under the attention of the sun, it seems to _glow_.

**Author's Note:**

> i was like "im gonna write something long" and because i am me, of COURSE it had to be super sad. anyways im sorry about this, i hope you enjoy it nonetheless xx
> 
> i promise it wont be all sad!!! there will also be pining, misunderstandings and boys being dumb because i project onto my characters hehehehe (also fluff)
> 
> (i wrote in all lowercase, for once.)
> 
> [tumblr](http://jaelicious.tumblr.com/) [twitter](https://twitter.com/jjaebri) [cc](https://curiouscat.me/jjaebri)


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